


Late Night Visit

by Satan (CherryBones)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Choking, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Overstimulation, Rimming, Spanking, i guess, listen okay it's really kinky, slight D/s undertones, such smut holy shit, this was a milestone fic, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBones/pseuds/Satan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Vagabond drops by to see his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Visit

The Vagabond gets caught late at night, late enough that most of the police force is home asleep and only those poor fuckers assigned to the graveyard shift are patrolling or stuck behind desks for various reasons. Detective Miles Luna is one of the miserable assholes that’s dealing with those of problems, working through his shift to make up for one slept through a few weeks previous as well as practically chained to the precinct by fault of a build up of paperwork. All in all he’s about ready to die by the time the call goes out that the Vagabond is causing havoc a few miles away, so it's a welcome distraction. They catch him surprisingly easily, only three cops injured and, for once, not dead. He frees himself from his computer and the piles of paper that surround it and make his way out into the more open area of the precinct just in time to see no less than four completely kitted out and exhausted looking officers leading a maskless and wildly amused Vagabond through the precinct. They stop in front of him, Miles currently the highest ranked person in the room and he sighs, looking over the criminal. He receives a decidedly coy grin in return, the reds of the makeup turning a bloody red in the dim light of the late night precinct.

“Detective Luna, what a surprise.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“Put him in the interrogation. I’ll be there soon.”

They all nod and quickly cart Ramsey’s mercenary off while he goes to get a coffee. By the time he finishes it and gets to the far back rooms they use for interrogation, they've already got everything set up. Miles waves them off, waiting until they disperse to check the viewing room and, finding it empty, lock it with the key he’d long since pickpocketed. Then he quickly enters the interrogation room and locks it similarly, it's unlikely anyone will walk in but better safe than sorry. He falls into the chair opposite the Vagabond and sighs in exasperation, fixing him with a look.

“Really Ryan?”

The smile he gets is more sheepish now, the edges of his eyes softer and more innocently playful.

“What? Can't visit my boyfriend at work?”

“Not when he's still trying to pass for a straightedge cop and you're one of Los Santos’s notorious criminals.”

He shrugs, nonchalant.

“So what? If you get caught we just get a new informant and you come work for us officially. Like Kerry.”

“If you hadn't stolen Kerry from me I wouldn't be stuck here at two in the damn morning.”

“Just because you can't foist your responsibilities on him anymore…”

Miles rolls his eyes, both of them smiling from the banter. They fade off into comfortable silence and the detective’s eyes lazily scanning over his delightfully ridiculous lover. Ryan basks under the attention like a greedy kitten, stretching and grinning and giving Miles full view of the broad strip of leather curled around his throat. A devilish idea coming to his mind, he leans forward to test the strength of Ryan’s cuffs, bolted to the table and keeping his hands within inches of the shining surface. The Vagabond watches him curiously, trying to decipher what he's thinking when he finds the bonds strong and taut. The arresting officers learned their lesson apparently. Miles grins, pushing to his feet and circling the table. Ryan watches him as best he can, huffing when he comes to a stop exactly behind him, just out of sight.

“What're we going to do with you Ry? You really gotta learn some patience.”

He lets the silence hang for a second, watching the way Ryan squirms in excitement when he realizes where this is going. The second Ryan shifts like he's going to open his mouth and complain about Miles dragging him on, the officer in question moves, using leverage and surprise to knock the chair out from under the Vagabond and pin him to the table by his throat, fingers tight against that thick strip of leather. Ryan lets out a sharp gasp of surprise before going very still, a hand on his neck the next best thing to a killswitch for Ramsey’s mad mercenary. Miles purrs in delight, leaning in close enough to hum into his ear. A sharp smack on the thigh stops the way that the Vagabond tries to roll his hips back against him when he presses in tight.

“You gonna be good for me Ry? Gonna be patient?”

It's an unsurprisingly noncommittal but no less eager sound that he gets in return, a noise that says probably not but willing to try. A good enough start, in Miles’s opinion. He slowly lets go of his neck, stepping away to circle him again. It's a game now. How long can Ryan go before he breaks; how long can Miles go before he does the same? He intensifies it by pausing behind Ryan yet again, swatting at his ass when he starts to wriggle and reveling in the moan the hit earns. He does it again when Ryan keeps squirming, rubbing at his tender flesh through the rough fabric of his jeans. It’s making it hard on Ryan to keep still, but he never said he was going to play fair. Ryan finally manages though, stilling long enough for Miles to cut him a little slack and pull down his lower garments until he can get a clear view of his ass, reddened handprints fading against the pale flesh.

“Fuck that is beautiful. You’ve got a beautiful ass Ry, I know I say that a lot but _goddamn_.”

Miles can practically sense the eyeroll he gets in reply. He plants another smack across the glorious skin before him for it, the moan that breaks loose even louder without the denim to soften the blow. Though Ryan can’t see it, Miles quickly shakes out his hand to get some sensation back into it before settling it back beside its brother on his rear, gently thumbing over the marks there.

“Might wanna try to be a little more quiet Ryan, it’s not very busy here but someone could still hear you.”

Saying that, admittedly, is a little cruel to them both. Ryan’s not one who often makes noise during sex and it’s Miles’s _favorite_ thing to drag those sounds from him, but it’s true. They don’t want anyone walking in on them, and even though the interrogation rooms are pretty much specifically built to be soundproof a chance is still a chance and Miles would rather keep his job today. The benefits of a detective job are rather nice and the information influx is more than enough to keep him cushy on the criminal side of things, boyfriend aside. Speaking of which, someone’s getting rather antsy beneath him, twitching but struggling hard to keep still and patient. It’s a cute attempt, the best Ryan’s given so far, and Miles is willing to reward that. Looks like he’s going to be the first to break, if this counts as breaking, but it’s not like anyone could blame him. Miles considers himself a connoisseur of ass and Ryan’s is by and large the best he’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He’s only human after all. As such, he shifts his hands against his ass and drops to his knees, kicking the chair completely out of the way now. The Vagabond before him lets out a weak gasp and from here, Miles can see the way the muscles of his back and thighs tense in an attempt to stay where he is. The officer pets his leg soothingly, waiting for him to relax a little. It takes a few minutes but finally the sharp definitions of his back slip away and he melts against the table. Probably not the most comfortable position, his hands are probably trapped under him due to the angle, but Miles has every intention of making him forget about that.

Ryan jolts when he shifts forward, pressing a kiss to his hole before going to town, hands rubbing over the still slightly reddened skin as he keeps him spread enough to stay close. Despite the startled movement he stays mostly relaxed, resting his head against the cool metal of the table with a quiet sigh. Miles hums gleefully as he opens easily under the ministrations of his mouth, earning a strangled sound in return. His hips jolt back against him, unable to stay still, and Miles smiles devilishly against him, nails biting into the flesh of his ass and making him shake. Miles takes his time, slowly taking Ryan apart with his tongue and then his fingers, slipping them in beside the diligent muscle, rubbing over his prostate and dragging beautifully choked moans and whimpers from him until he can’t stop trembling, looking like he’s about to collapse from need at any second. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks completely. All it takes is for him to pull back, stand up, make like he’ll stop all contact with him yet again.

“No wait Miles _please_.”

Let it never be said that Miles isn’t a complete asshole.  
“What’s that Ryan? You want something?”

“Goddammit Miles _fuck me_ please.”

Miles grins like he’s been given the keys to the universe, reaching up to pet his hair as he digs around in his pockets.

“Good boy Ry, such a good boy.”

That calms him immediately, the praise making his breath go slow and even as Miles finally digs out what he’s looking for, tossing a handful of lube packets onto the table before deciding which one he wants. Even Ryan, loose and happy and settled firmly in a expectant headspace, can’t resist the tease, and Miles can’t fault him.

“Really?”

“With a boyfriend like you, yes.”

He’s hesitant to remove his hand from his love’s hair but he needs both appendages and so he lets go, tearing the packet open with his teeth and quickly coating over his fingers. Miles is nice enough to warm up the lube before sliding his fingers down and pushing two digits easily into him. The other goes on a quest, traveling back up to his hair to pet it before traveling down over the collar around his neck, between his broad shoulderblades and against where his shirt’s gotten rucked up before moving back up, petting over him and admiring his beautiful body as he spreads him open.

“So goddamn beautiful. When I get home I’m gonna strip you down and just spend a while all this ridiculous fucking glory. Maybe take a few pictures. I think you’d be a nice wallpaper on my phone don’t you think?”

Three fingers now, Miles still quietly rambling about his plans for the rest of the night and/or continuing day. His hand plants in the middle of the back when Ryan starts to get restless, trying to fuck back against his fingers. The angle gives him the advantage necessary to pin him there, keep him still while he slows down even more, delves into fantasies about tying Ryan down and fucking his throat, or maybe just tying him up and leaving him for a while, maybe go run errands or to work while Ryan’s stuck with a vibrator going to town in his ass and a ring around his cock, something that would really teach him how to be patient. His fingers return to playing over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him while he speaks, tapping and rubbing and driving him wild until suddenly Ryan’s breath hitches and he goes completely limp, a clear sign of him coming. Miles pauses, momentarily surprised. He hadn’t thought Ryan was that close, but here we are. His hand slips to rub gently at his hip, pausing but not removing his fingers. It’s not the first time this’s happened.

“Babe? Ry, you good?”

There’s a few seconds of silence before he gets a reply, Ryan’s voice heavy and thick with tears of desperation. Miles immediately wishes he could see his face, he must be beautiful.

“M’good.”

“Still want me to fuck you? We can stop if you want.”

The shake of Ryan’s head is almost immediate.

“No, want you to fuck me. Please.”

Miles hums, nodding to himself as he pulls his fingers free, letting go of his hip to fumble with his own pants, taking a minute but finally managing to get them unbuttoned and down enough to get his dick out. The sudden hit of the air on him immediately informs him of the need he’d pushed aside in favor of driving Ryan up a wall. The reminder urges him to move with a little more speed, tearing open another packet to coat his dick and hissing quietly at the chill of it. The rest gets wiped off on Ryan’s jeans, they’re already a mess anyways. Still mostly fucked out but no less eager, Ryan pushes his hips back, presenting his ass for Miles in a way he has no way to fight. It’s little effort to settle just right behind him, pushing in and burying himself with a series of short thrusts, each little jolt pushing him up against the Vagabond’s oversensitive prostate in some format, making him whine brokenly and hump back against him, driven almost solely by need now. The room suddenly feels deprived of air for both of them as he bottoms out, bending over Ryan enough to rest his head against his shoulders, fighting down the urge to just fuck into him until he comes. It’s a struggle to wait until Ryan lets out a soft breath and an encouraging sound, the go ahead for Miles to start to move. He plants his hands on his hips and starts to move, trying to take his time but soon speeding up, straightening up to change the angle until Ryan shouts, a sound he only catches halfway through. They’re both too gone to worry about it now though, one of Miles’s hands sliding up to feel over the strip of leather around his boyfriend’s neck, fucking him senseless on his cock as he feels over it, admires how it fits against his skin. He waits until he feels himself get close before suddenly tugging on it, putting a strain on Ryan’s airflow and bringing him crashing over the edge almost immediately, the sudden all-consuming tightness of his body dragging Miles down with him. Everything goes silent except for their heavy breathing, still tight against each other as they crawl their ways down from the peak. Miles is the first to move, knocking the packets of lube around on the table until he finds the key to the handcuffs that had come out with them, tugging Ryan up enough to unlock him. It’s a little effort to do it without moving too much but he succeeds, intensely hesitant to pull out of the familiar warmth that is his beautiful glorious boyfriend. All good things must come to an end though, and so he eventually does, peeling himself away and tucking himself in before helping Ryan, still rather insensate after two orgasms, get himself looking relatively put together. He gets the chair back in place, settling in it and tugging Ryan down with him, fighting down his amusement at how much bigger the man now sitting on his lap is in comparison to him, petting his hair until he finally gets a grumble of nonsensical syllables that means Ryan’s got most of his mental faculties back, if maybe not the ones keeping him awake. Miles can’t help the giggle then, shifting to plant a kiss on his love.

“Good then?”

His facepaint is smeared but it does nothing to take away the dastardly coyness of his smile.

“Yeah. Might have to get caught again if it means this is the time I get.”

Miles rolls his eyes, pushing him off his lap just as an explosion rocks a distant end of the building.

“Sounds of the crew’s here to get you. I’ll see you back home.”

Ryan winks at him, bending down to kiss him once more before pulling away and kicking down the door with all the flair of a true blooded theatre nerd.

“See you back home dear!”

And then he’s gone. Miles laughs to himself and quickly cleans up the remaining lube packets, sticking the spent ones in a different pocket before pulling a face of aggravated distress and charging out after him with a shout.

None of the precinct is any the wiser.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr’s over here](satansprettyprose.tumblr.com)


End file.
